It was a very good year.

Yes, once again, I'm celebrating a birthday. Overnight, I went from being in my mid-thirties to my late thirties. My brother just called and asked if I was aging gracefully. I think a more appropriate adverb is "clumsily" or "painfully", but I'll take it. Thirty-five was good to me. I was blessed with a son who will be 8 months tomorrow. I hope 36 is half as gratifying as 35.

This is what Frank Sinatra crooned about being 35:

When I was thirty-five

It was a very good year

It was a very good year for blue-blooded girls

Of independent means

We'd ride in limousines

Their chauffeurs would drive

When I was thirty-five

If you replace "blue-blooded girls of independent means" with "blue onesies with spit-up on the sleeve", and then replace "limousines" with "mini-vans", Frank and I are on the same wavelength.

Here's a link to last year's birthday post, which features my mother's account of my birth (she was there). FYI: Mom's chicken curry is also on the menu tonight. Any dish with with mayo as the main ingredient will always be special to me.

Last year's birthday post